


Sammy's Little Boy

by majesticduxk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Dean, Crying Dean, Cursed Dean, Daddy Kink, Dominance, Dominant Sam, Extreme Humiliation, Humiliation, M/M, Manhandling, Non-Consensual Spanking, Possessive Sam, Restraints, Rimming, Size Kink, Spanking, Top Sam, Uncomfortable Dean, Wincest - Freeform, Witch Curses, assplay, non con, not a happy end, soft cock, tiny cock, uncomfortable ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/pseuds/majesticduxk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kinkmeme fill</p><p>Dean is hit by a spell which turns his cock into a little boy one, tiny and soft and useless. He can't even get hard anymore. He hates it but his partner can't get enough of playing with Dean's little limp, bouncing cock and balls. After all, daddies can do what they want with their little boys.</p><p>please note: this is NON CON and as such if this will disturb you please don't read. Dean does get some physical enjoyment out of it, but there is definitely no consent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It should have been a typical salt and burn. But they never were. Not when witches were involved. 

“I fucking hate witches,” Dean told Sam, as they ducked from yet another spell. “They are nasty pieces of work.” Which when you think about it was bad timing, as the witch appeared in front of Dean at that moment. Although he stuck in the knife in (and enjoyed it, he was man enough to admit it), she still had the juice for one last spell. Dean felt a slight tingle in his cock and balls, but didn't think much else of it. He was always getting tingles here and there. Much better than things getting cut off. Or bleeding out. Or Hell. A slight tingle he could deal with. 

At least he thought so. 

“What the ever loving fuck???”

Deans shout brought Sam running to the bathroom. 

“Dean? What happened? Are you Ok?”

Dean had been standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror, just staring, but he quickly turned grabbing a towel and thrusting it in front of him. “Get out Sam. Just get out. I’m fine. I’m fucking fine.”

Sam had backed away obediently. But not before he got a look at Dean’s crotch. 

And that had been worth seeing.

\------------------------------------

“Where are you off to?”

Dean was dressed for a night out. It was only 8 o’clock, but he had been edgy all evening. Twitching on the bed, walking in and out of the bathroom, pacing the room. Eventually he had taken himself back to the bathroom, only to emerge in the jeans which showcased his oh so fuckable ass, and a shirt that was tight in all the right places. Sam could admit Dean looked hot. And if Sam had his way, which he fully intended to, he wouldn't just be looking. 

Tilting his head, he stared at Dean. Now that he thought about it, Dean was looking a little different. A little more butch than usual? Sam grinned to himself. It always felt like Dean was trying just a bit too hard to prove his masculinity. It never stopped him looking like he should be pushed down while someone (Sam?) shoved a hard cock in his ass, but Dean had been vocal (and active) in pursuing his heterosexuality. And today, more than ever, Dean would be feeling that his masculinity was in danger. Oh, and he had a great reason. 

“Looking very manly Dean.”

Dean shot Sam a look. 

“Heading out for any reason in particular?”

“Do I need a reason, Sammy?” Dean spat. Oh yes, Dean was definitely feeling on edge. 

Sam allowed a little of his satisfaction to bleed through. “Of course not Dean. Have fun. Be back by 11 please. We have some things to talk about.”

\------------------------------------

Dean sat at the bar, trying to sort through his feelings. Ugh, it made him feel sick, talking like that even to himself. Sam was the one big on the chick flick moments. Dean was the one who was all action, not talk talk talk. Or thoughts. Or feelings. Oh fucking hell, he was screwed. He allowed himself to wallow for a moment. His life sucked. It totally sucked. He didn't want to talk to Sam – Sam would probably laugh. But who else would know how to deal with a curse from a dead witch? 

Dean sipped his beer. Here he was all by himself. No one to help. No one to go to. All alone, with no one here beside him. Although... A name crossed his mind, and he grabbed his phone, cursing himself. What was wrong with him? That curse shouldn't have affected his brain. He quickly dialed Bobby’s number. 

“What’s up, boy. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Ah, not much, Bobby. Just finished a hunt and things went a little... well, they didn't go according to plan.”

Dean could hear Bobby take a deep breath. ‘Not according to plan’ tended to mean 'really fucking terrible'. 

“What sort of not according to plan?”

“I got cursed, Bobby. It isn't life threatening, but the witch who cast it is dead and gone. Is there any way to maybe... reverse a curse?”

For a few moments all Dean heard was silence. “Dean, generally you need the witch who cast it to reverse it. Or at least something of the witch to make a counter spell. You boys are far too sensible to leave bits of unashed witch.”

Dean responded to the question in Bobby’s voice. “She’s gone, Bobby. Salted and burned. So, no other way? None at all?”

Bobby's voice grew worried. “I'll look into it Dean, but I don’t think so. Have you asked Sam?”

“Woahoahoah – no. No. No. No. This is not something I want to talk to Sam about. And anyway, you're the best researcher we have, Bobby! If you can’t help, then there is no way that Sam can.”

There was a disbelieving pause on the other end of the phone. “By 'not wanting to ask Sam about it', does that mean 'not mentioned at all?'”

“Guilty as charged, Bobby. I’ll be fine. It doesn't affect anything. But if you hear anything, just let me know, ok?”

He heard Bobby sigh. “I think you’re a damn idjit boy. But I'll look into it for you.”

“Thanks, Bobby. You’re a lifesaver.”

Dean drained his beer, then glanced at the clock. It was almost 11, so he should head back. Standing up, Dean grabbed his phone then paused. What the fuck? Since when did he run home just because Sam said? Shaking his head, Dean sat back down and then raised his finger for another drink. Dean Winchester didn't go home before 11. And certainly not sober. Hopefully if he stayed out late Sam would be asleep before he got back.

\------------------------------------

Unfortunately Sam was still up when Dean staggered in as quietly as he could at 3am. 

He was seated on his bed, staring at the laptop, but he looked up as Dean came in. He then closed the top, put it to the side, and just stared at Dean. 

"Uhh... Porn, Sammy? Don’t let me stop you. Good to see my baby boy all grown up."

This was obviously the wrong thing to say, because instead of the normal blushes and stammering, Dean received a smoldering look. 

"Didn't I say be home at 11, Dean?"

Deciding to ignore it, Dean headed to the bathroom. "You should have seen the girls out tonight. Wooboy, Sammy! There were some sweet ones. Ones to suit even your college boy tastes,"

“I had a call from Bobby.” 

Dean cursed Bobby seven ways to Sunday in his head. He should have asked Bobby not to call Sam. Why hadn't he learnt that one yet? But... hadn't he said _not_ to tell Sam? How did that result in Bobby... ah fuck it. He'd deal with it later. “Oh yeah? What’d he have to say?”

“Just that you called. Had a little curse problem.” Sam raised his voice at this point. “Were you going to tell me at any point, Dean? That you got cursed? Today?!”

Dean walked back into the bedroom and gave Sam his most long suffering look. “It doesn't affect anything, Sammy. It doesn't change how we hunt, or anything. And Bobby couldn't help anyway.”

“Why? What else did he say?” 

“Just that with the witch salted and burned there was probably no way to reverse it.” Dean fell silent, bemoaning his fate again. It was a damn clever curse – it didn't really hurt him, but it also hit him where he hurt most. It just wasn't fair. 

He didn't notice Sam move until Sam's chin was resting on his shoulder, and his arms were around his waist. 

“Fuck, Sammy! What are you doing? I’m fine and you don’t need to hug me!”

“So, what’s the curse then?”

Dean’s body stiffened and he tried to pull away. Sam just tightened his arms, not allowing Dean any escape.

“It doesn't matter Sam. I've assessed it, and it doesn't affect the hunt. It doesn't affect us. So don't worry about it. Is that your cock sticking into my ass???”

Dean struggled again. Because yes, it was Sam's rather large and rather hard erection pressed right up against Dean’s ass. 

“It is Dean. But it isn't sticking in your ass. Not yet anyway. Do you know what I saw today Dean? When I went into the bathroom? I saw you."

Dean saw no reason to respond to this, fighting as he was to get out of his brother's arms. He knew he could take his little brother in a fair fight, but he was starting from behind. He jerked and twisted, all to no avail. All that happened was Sam seemed to get harder. 

“Fuck” he muttered under his breath. 

“Oh I think so Dean. And I think you will be thanking me for it.”

With that Dean was suddenly loose, but Sam was already behind him, crowding him and pushing him onto the bed. He fell flat on his back, and went to roll away, but Sam was already there, pushing his arms up, and securing his wrists to the headboard with some conveniently placed cuffs. Dean’s eyes bulged. 

“You were planning this???”

Sam sat back, admiring his handiwork. Dean was pissed off and flushed. A particularly sexy combination. Sam leaned in and licked a line from Dean’s brow to chin. Oh. He tasted good too. 

"I don’t think you were listening to me earlier, Dean. I said I saw you. In the bathroom."

Dean did still at at. He looked at his brother warily. And Sam took this chance to unbutton Dean’s shirt, pushing it back. 

"I wonder what it is that makes you so special Dean?"

"I like to think it's my perky nipples."

Dean cursed himself. Was he really in a position to be pushing any of Sam's buttons. "Ah... just a joke Sammy. Now let me the fuck out of here!" 

Sam ignored Dean while he fought with the cuffs. “They really are beautiful nipples Dean. I wonder what they taste like?” and Sam’s mouth was down, claiming one with his mouth, squeezing the other firmly. He lathed his tongue over and over, feeling it harden in his mouth. When it had pebbled beneath his tongue, he Bit. Hard. Dean cried out, and Sam lifted his head. “They taste good Dean. You taste good.” Sam took in Dean’s face – now even more flushed. The way his breath caught and his eyes flared. “Oh. You like it rough.” Sam nuzzled at Dean’s chest once more. “That’s good. So do I.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean lay as still as he could. He figured if he could get Sammy to calm down (although he seemed to be calmly biting his _fucking nipples_ ), they could discuss this, Dean would be released and then it would never be spoken of again. Ever. Dean waited until Sam’s mouth had gentled further, and he was just licking Dean’s abused nipples.

“Mmmmmmm. You taste good Dean. And it seems to feel good too.” He nipped again as the little nubs hardened further, nuzzling at Dean’s gasp. Stupid perky nipples, Dean thought to himself. But Sam was sounding maybe more like he would listen to Dean.

“Sammy?” he asked tentatively. “Do you think you could let me out of the cuffs?”

Sam pulled back from Dean’s body, and looked down seriously at his brother. “If I let you out, do you think you can be a good little boy? Will do as you are told?”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck, Sam?! What the fuck?” He started pulling at his cuffs again, thrashing around on the bed, bucking up to dislodge his (fucking huge – when did Sam get so big??) brother. “If you think I am going to lie here listen, and just let you… do whatever the fuck you are doing? Sam – Get. Off. Me.” 

Dean punctuated each word by bucking his hips up, attempting to move the immovable object currently sprawled across his body. Sam shook his head sadly. “That’s what I thought. If you can’t be good, then the cuffs stay on.”

Dean just gaped at Sam. “Sam? What’s gotten into you? What’s going on?”

Sam just ignored Dean, and went back to nuzzling his nipples once more before moving lower. Ignoring the squirming man beneath him, Sam laid open mouthed kisses down Dean’s chest. “So soft baby”, Sam whispered against Dean’s skin. “So soft and so sweet. You like this.”

There was obviously only one reason this was happening. “Christo!”

Sam chuckled. “Sorry Dean. Not possessed. This is all me doing _this_ ”. And Sam bit down - _hard_ \- before continuing his journey down Dean’s body. He moved with excruciating slowness, mainly leaving soft, wet, open mouthed kisses, tasting all that he could. But sometimes he changed it. Nipping here. Chewing there. And fucking gnawing. Although he Sam never broke the skin, Dean could feel blood rushing to the surface, and knew he would be covered with marks and bruises. 

Dean hissed and tensed. “Please, Sam. Please! Can’t you… could you stop? Please?” The words came out much whinier than he intended. 

Sam paused at Dean’s belly button. “I’m not going to stop Dean. Things are changing. When you can… man up… well, then we can discuss how things will be. But until then…” Sam’s words trailed off, and Dean felt hands grab his hips, holding him still as fingers pressed hard enough to leave bruises. He felt hot breath on his belly button, before Sam’s tongue snaked in. And again. And again. The bastard was effectively tongue fucking his belly button! He wriggled again, against the duel restraints of the cuffs and Sam’s hands. 

“Sam! What? Please… that doesn't feel good.” And ‘man up’ what did that even mean?

Sam kept moving, kissing and nipping at Deans belly until he got to the top of Dean’s jeans. It hadn't seemed possible, but Dean tensed even more. 

“Sammy. Stop it. Now.” Dean’s voice was deadly serious.

“What should I be stop, Dean? And why should I stop? Something wrong, hmmmm?” Sam responded, his hands releasing Dean’s hips and coming to play at the button of his jeans. 

Dean felt panic race through him, and his bucking started again. “I don’t know what game you are playing Sammy, but fine. You win. You win, ok? I’ll buy you dinner. You can choose the movie. Hell, you can drive the Impala. But this stops now Sam. Undo me.”

A poor choice of words under the circumstances. Sam readily agreed with his brother. “Sure, I’ll undo you, Dean.” And his hands went straight for the button. 

“The cuffs Gigantor! The cuffs! Undo the freaking…”

Dean’s words were cut off as adrenalin raced through him. He bucked and twisted, but, tied as he was, was no match for Sam, whose entire weight was resting on Dean’s legs. The button was undone, the zip down, and it was like slow motion, the way the Sam’s fingers hooked under his boxers, catching the jeans in their wake. 

Dean felt the pressure of the boxers carding through his pubic hair, and then further, until he was fully exposed. 

He felt Sam’s breather on his cock, and the words floated up. ‘Well. What do you have here, little boy?’


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stilled, wishing himself away. This was the moment he had feared since the witch cursed him. Actually, it was worse than he had imagined. Some nameless woman he would never see again? A one night stand, which might end in mocking laughter? That was one thing. A fleeting humiliation. But this? 

“Oh, Dean.”

This was Dean exposed to his brother in the most intimate way imaginable. Stripped and spread. Bared completed and utterly. His cursed cock right in his brother’s face. 

“It’s so cute, Dean.”

Sam’s hands were on Dean’s thighs, keeping them spread. He could feel Sam’s gaze, but tried to ignore it. For fuck’s sake, why would he have expected this? His brother spreading his legs, staring at his crotch. Never in his worst nightmares had he imagined he would be cuffed to the fucking bed, while his brother stripped him, exposed him, _humiliated him_.

His mind frantically tried to think of someone - _anyone_ \- this experience would be worse with. Christ, he tried to think of something, anything that would make this worse. Drawing a blank, he pulled at the cuffs in frustration. Son of a bitch! If only Sam would back off instead of - Fuck. Instead of sticking his face in Dean’s private Hell. Dean felt Sam’s breath ghost along his cock, warm and damp. Although Dean tensed, not knowing what his brother would do, however the hot, wet feel of Sam’s tongue lathing his cock was completely unwelcome, if not completely unexpected. Sam was surprisingly relaxed, licking a few more times, before nuzzling his nose against Dean’s pubic hair. 

“It’s so darling, Dean.”

And it wasn't like Dean had ever imagined Sam sticking his face in his crotch. He had worked incredibly hard on not swinging that way. But if he had? Sam would have been reverent. Worshiping at the altar of Dean’s Cock. 

“So sweet.”

Not this, whatever this was. What was Sam even trying to do? Rather than try and figure out the puzzle that was his brother, Dean struggled to block out the sound of Sam’s voice, the feel of Sam’s fingers rubbing gently over his balls, Sam’s lips and mouth nibbling and licking and tasting and – oh!

“Sammy, please stop!” 

Dean had always had a pretty face. And a pretty body too, really. It had attracted men for as long as he could remember, and women since he had filled out a bit. While he might have flirted with idea of men, the hard line homophobic attitudes of the hunters around him had him closing that door and hard and fast. Dean had always been good at ignoring things he didn’t want to deal with, so he had donned the trappings of the ultimate Alpha Male as early as he could, hiding himself behind layers of flannel, steel capped boots, macho hair and the macho attitude to go with it. But the thing which really formed the basis of his perceived masculinity, was his cock. Real men had Real Cocks. 

“Just like a baby.”

Dean could ignore his prettiness. He could subvert some of his softer (and dare he say it, feminine) attributes under layers of costume and subterfuge, bristling and snarling like his life depended on it. But it was his cock that cemented his place as a man. 

Dean had been the man with The Cock. And so Dean spent many hours – days – weeks – perfecting its use. And he let everyone know. Perhaps even pointing out to younger, smaller Sammy that Sam was somewhat lacking. “Little cock for a little boy, Sammy. You aren't a man til you have a man sized cock.” But that hadn't mattered, really. Sam would find his own way, just as Dean had found his. What had matter was that Dean was a Man.

“My baby.”

And then a fucking witch had changed all that. 

He went from being a man to some overgrown child, with a tint, useless little cock, with equally tiny balls. He was effectively castrated – his masculine self-worth shrinking as surely and rapidly as his cock. 

Sam’s fingers firmed on Dean’s balls, unfortunately shaking Dean out of his mental nightmare into his living nightmare. 

“I would have thought my baby would be all smooth down here. But I like you like this. You smell,” and Sam pressed his nose into Dean’s hair again, breathing in deeply, “So good. You smell all man here, but if I just dip a little lower” and Sam started nuzzling at his balls. “Oh baby, they are so soft and smooth! High and tight - all little boy. It just makes me want to taste every part of you. A little treat I might give myself later.”

And he smiled at Dean. “And it is little. Your little cock is, I think, smaller than my tongue. Such a tiny thing.” For a moment Sam’s fingers were back, playing with him, rolling his little balls between two fingers, a fingertip running the length of his cock. “I think I can suck it all – your cock and your balls, Dean. No need to wait. It’s not like daddy needs to hold back when it’s his little boy.” 

Sam suited actions to words, sucking in Dean’s tiny cock and balls. Sam rolled them in his mouth, smiling around his little mouthful. 

Dean moaned – he knew already that his little cock couldn't get hard. Christ, he had been trying since that witch first cursed him, hoping that if he came, it would break the spell. It hadn't worked. He had spent a _lots_ of time on it, but even so, Sam’s hot mouth felt good. 

Sam pulled back. “Not even a mouthful. And it doesn't get hard?” Sam’s hand was back, tapping the useless little cock, weighing it in his hands, before once again squeezing at his balls. He just kept repeating the light touches, seemingly fascinated by Dean’s miniature genitalia. “What was it you said to me, when you were a _young man_? ‘You’re not a man unless you have a man sized cock?’”

Sam lapped at the little balls. Then sat up a little, looking Dean right in the eyes, then asked him seriously “So, what does that make you now then, Dean? With your useless, little boy cock? What does that make you now?”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean refused to answer, fuming silently. Fuck Sam. Just… fuck him. Where did he get off treating Dean like this? Sure, last time Sam had been hexed Dean had laughed (Sam as a kitty? I mean, come on!), but they _both_ laughed at each other over various hexes and curses. Because sometimes they were funny. But this? This was not funny. This was taking it a step too far. 

You _never_ laugh at another guys dick. (Ok, so Dean _had_ laughed at other dicks before. But that – and this - was different. This was him!). Your own brother should never (metaphorically) kick you in the nuts. Or lick your nuts either. And what Sam was doing, the way he was doing it, was nothing short of emasculating. As if having the junk of two year old wasn’t emasculating enough! And the weird tying him up, calling him little boy and fondling him, thing? What was that? That was just weird. Dean had no idea where Sam was coming from, and was pretty sure he didn’t really want to know. He did, however, want it to stop. 

Despite his best efforts to keep quiet and ignore his brother, words burst out. Because really, Dean _did_ want to know what was up with his brother. “What the fuck Sam? What are you doing??”

“What? What do you think I am doing?”

Dean paused. This was obviously a trick question. ‘Playing with my cock and licking my balls’ was misleading, and no way described the current humiliating experience. ‘Playing with my cock’ should a positive thing. A wave of unhappiness rolled through him, and tugging at the cuffs again Dean let loose. 

“I think you are acting like you have lost your fucking mind! I am cuffed to the fucking bed, while you seem to be getting yourself off acting like a grade A asshole. The real question is what the fuck is wrong with you? Got some weird kinks I didn’t need to know about? Your former demons didn’t want to pander to your need to play _daddy_? ‘Cos I have to say Sammy, I am not about to play.“ Dean let his anger and frustrating bleed into his voice “I Am Not The Person You Should Be Fucking With.”

“I thought I was the one with the problems, Sam. I currently have the cock of a baby.” Dean choked. “I can’t even call it a cock! I just… I can’t… And you? You have something going on. You don’t just tie people up and fucking suck their cock without asking!” Dean was seething, just wanting to punish Sam. Possibly not very sensible when Sam’s mouth was so close to his dick, but Dean was never one for thinking ahead. “You don’t call the fucking shots, Sammy. You don’t tell me what to do. You don’t do this to me.” 

Sam fingers stilled, finger tips just lightly gripping Dean’s balls. Dean felt his heart leap in his chest – was he actually listening? Dean shook his shackles in Sam’s direction. “So be a good kid, and let me out.” Even if he had tried, he couldn’t have kept the condescension out of his voice. “We’ll pretend it never happened.” He paused then, face caught between demanding and beseeching, eventually deciding to split the difference, giving Sam a winning smile. “Well, except for the fact that you are going to make this up to me, and use your research to find a way to end this fucking curse.”

Sam lay there silently, contemplatively. His fingers went back to rolling his little nuts, in a manner that Sam seemed to find soothing. Dean (despite the fact that he wanted to bite his brothers fucking fingers off, to shout at his little brother to _let him the fuck out now_ ) lay there quietly. Sam was listening, which was good, but he obviously had to take his time to come to the right decision. 

Sam smiled slightly, and with a final little tug, grabbed a key off the bedside table, turning it in his hands a few times, before unlocking Dean’s hands. Sam moved back, giving Dean a little space (“About frigging time” Dean muttered to himself), watching as Dean rubbed his wrists, wincing slightly and frowning as he studied them. They were red and swollen, but they shouldn’t bruise. Huffing a small sigh of relief, Dean glared at Sam, before remembering his promise to ignore it all. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to think of a natural way to shift the conversation.

Unable to think of anything natural he opened again, only to squawk and push back against the headboard “Wahhh! Sam! What the fuck, man??”

Sam had silently moved until he was nose to nose with Dean.

“Show me your wrists, Dean.”

“Don’t do that! How did you learn to move so quietly anyway?” Dean steamrollered over Sam’s words. He must be losing his touch, not to hear his brother move. 

“Show me your wrists, Dean. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Dean blinked. While the words themselves were fine, the tone was demanding. “Don’t talk to me like that, Sam. I don’t know what weird trip you have been on, but if I am going to ignore it, you have to stop being an ass.”

Sam smiled gently. “Show me your wrists, Dean. Now.”

Dean snorted. As if he was listening to a word his (bossy? Demanding? Asshole!) brother said. Pushing Sam to the side, he swung his legs over the bed, and there way have been a slight hip swing. But that was just relief at finally being uncuffed. Sam, however, looked at him, raised that damn eyebrow again, and grabbed onto his hip.

“We are going to be talking about that attitude very soon, little boy. But now, for the fourth and final time _show me your wrists_.”

Dean reacted to that voice, his hands going up without his permission. Not far –and Dean caught himself quickly, pulling them back – but far enough that Sam quickly and firmly grasped them, pulling them forward. Dean felt his eyes goes wide, a shiver of (fear? It couldn’t be fear. He was bad ass Dean Winchester, and this was his baby brother. But for now he would call it ‘humiliation’ because fuck! He was fucking naked with his junk all on display) – 

“I’m fucking naked Sam! Let me at least get some clothes on!”

Sam was too busy examining Dean’s wrists to respond. He gently brushed both index fingers over the reddened marks, feeling their slight warmth, and raised texture. He then slowly pulled - drawing a reluctant Dean closer with every step – before he raised both wrists and kissed them gently. 

“I think they are going to be ok, baby. No bruises.” He fixed Dean with a stern eye. “If you had just stayed still they wouldn’t be hurting. And that is one of the new rules Dean – you do not hurt yourself.”

Dean ignored Sam. New rules? They never had old rules. Well, only one. And yeah, that had been for Dean, but ‘take care of your brother’ didn’t really require Sam to do much. Maybe Sam had been hit by a curse at the same time? There wasn’t really any other reasonable explanation for Sam’s behaviour, and even that wasn’t a great excuse. 

Sam sighed, his exasperation leaking through. Dean’s mind was definitely somewhere else. He didn’t seem to realise the important of what Sam was saying. Well, what had Sam expected? A well behaved little boy, who listened and said ‘yes, daddy’ “You have to answer when I ask you a question Dean.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Sam!” Dean snapped. “And you didn’t ask a question. You made some weird fucking statement, and expected me to agree.” He pulled half-heartedly against Sam’s grip, knowing he couldn’t really pull free. Damn if the man wasn’t strong! 

Sam raised an eyebrow. He looked up Dean. “So that’s the attitude you are going to take? I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Sam gave Dean a disappointed look. Dean felt his eyes widen, and his stomach start to flutter. Not good. Nothing about this situation was good. The feeling was cemented as Sam tugged sharply on Dean’s arm, until he stumbled forward, and Sam was placing him firmly across his lap. One arm swept around Dean’s waist, pulling him snug against Sam’s waist, while the other came to rest on Dean’s upturned bottom. It seemed… menacing.

“Sam??!” Dean spluttered, and wriggled and jerked, attempted to loosen Sam’s hold. All that happened was Sam’s hold on his waist tightened, and Sam’s rapidly growing erection prodded his groin. Dean abruptly stilled. 

This was not good. This was not good at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took a while. But now? Dean is right where I like him to be. Over Sam's knee :-)


	5. Chapter 5

Sam sighed with satisfaction, enjoying the weight of his brother pressing against him. Although he wanted nothing more than rut up against the (deliciously) naked Dean on his lap, there were a few things that needed to be established. 

Of course that didn’t mean that he needed to deny himself from firmly rubbing (not groping) the firm globes of Dean’s ass. And what an ass. In clothes it had been hard to tear his eyes away, but now, here it was, in front of his eyes, beneath his hands: soft, round, and oh so fuckable. He watched the rounded globes flex and twitch as Dean flinched under his hand. His poor baby. 

Knowing how nervous Dean had to be, Sam started moving his hand in slow, rhythmic circles. Dean bucked, and Sam’s hand moved to cup the underside of one tense cheek. 

“Uh, uh, little boy. We’re here because you can’t behave. You couldn’t have a polite discussion with Daddy, so I think this position will suit us nicely.”

Dean gave a strangled cry, and punched the floor. 

“No, no, baby. Don’t do that. You’ll hurt your hand, and remember what I said before? You’re not allowed to hurt yourself.”

Dean had to wonder if they’d both been cursed. Was there any other explanation for his brothers’ crazy behaviour? But Dean couldn’t ponder it too much, he felt very… exposed. Here he was naked, ass up over Sam’s lap.

“Sammy! This is ridicul-ouch!!” 

Sam’s hand came down firmly on Dean’s behind. He watched with some interest as the globes quivered, and he felt his cock get harder at the soft pink glow that bloomed. If he looked carefully, he could make out the shape of his fingers. And as if that wasn’t hot.

“It’s Daddy, Dean.”

Sam recommenced the rubbing, not saying anything, just soothing his little boy. He enjoyed the soft skin beneath his hands, idly considering the best maintenance routine to keep his boy as fuckable as possible. Sam continued until Deans buttocks unclenched. But Sam didn’t rush the next step, just continuing the soothing moves until Dean finally broke the silence.

“Sam?”

Sam didn’t respond. Dean needed to learn sooner rather than later that he wasn’t ‘Sam’ any more. 

“Sammy?”

Well, that just wasn’t appropriate. Sam’s hand came down firmly once more. Dean also needed to learn ‘Daddy’ was always in charge and expected to be obeyed.

“’Sammy’ was the little boy you helped to raise Dean. I am not Sammy anymore. The only little boy here is you, and you would do well to listen to your Daddy.”

Sam’s hand came down a few more times. There was no need to blister his little boys’ behind yet – Dean was a damn disobedient brat. There would be ample opportunity to warm his bottom. 

“You do realise I am not a child, Sam?” Dean snarled at his brother, wanting to punch, and kick. But in his less than elegant position over Sam’s lap, there wasn’t a lot he could do to move Sam. 

Sam set him straight. He started spanking – just a few brisk swats to each cheek, and then started _lecturing_. Could the humiliation get worse? Dean thought to himself. 

“You are a little boy, Dean. _My_ little boy. After all, only little boys get spanked.” His hand slipped under Dean to cup his small cock and balls. “I think we both know that. And little boys do what their Daddy says. Little boys are obedient. Little boys are polite. Little boys are useful for their daddy.”

“And this little thing here, it doesn’t even get hard.” Sam gave a firm pull, and Dean cried out. His little cock was engulfed by Sam’s large hand. “So what do daddies use their little boys for then, Dean?”

Dean was stubbornly silent. His ass was stinging, and he refused to believe that Sam was implying what he seemed to be implying. 

“Go to fucking Hell, Sam.”

Sam shook his head sadly. He had (really!) hoped to avoid Dean’s first spanking for a while. But, well, this was Dean. He knew he had a little sassy-pants on his hands. 

Sam held Dean firmly, while he got himself comfortable, spreading his legs so that Deans’ little cock slipped below. The new position also forced Deans’ legs to part a little, exposing his pretty pink hole. (Slow down, Sam, he told himself. Soon… soon…)

Dean felt the movement and couldn’t believe it was possible to feel even more exposed. But with his little dick hanging down, and his hole just… fuck… he could feel Sam’s eyes staring. 

“S-Sammy?”

The crack of Sam’s hand across his upturned buttocks hurt – it fucking hurt! Sam wasn’t messing around, and Dean wiggled and twisted to escape the pain, but Sam’s hand came down again and again and again, in no discernible pattern, leaving a blaze of fire in its wake. 

While Dean wiggled, Sam admired the naughty little bottom under his hand. His hand marks bled together, and he watched Dean’s ass turn a delightfully fuckable shade of pink.

Dean was feeling it more too – kicking and yelling and swearing. 

Sam pursed his lips. Completely inappropriate behaviour. 

“I’m not sure where you learnt such language, little boy, but that is _not_ appropriate.”

Sam raised his knee, which in turn tipped Dean forward exposing his sit spots. 

“Sam! Stop! Please”

“I told you Dean. It’s Daddy.”

Sam continued the spanking in earnest, targeting that sensitive zone between buttock and thigh. From the way Dean’s breath hitched and his wiggles increased. Such defiance! Sam shook his head and increased the pace, spanking again and again until Dean had gone lax, and was sobbing over his lap. But Sam hardened his heart, and spanked faster. This was a lesson Dean needed to learn. 

“You know what to say to make it stop Dean.”

Christ, he hoped Dean caved soon. Sam’s hand was starting to get sore, although it couldn’t hold a torch to the bright red bottom beneath his hand. As Sam continued, waiting Dean out, his mind drifted to his shopping list. He really needed to get a hairbrush, with such a defiant little boy. 

“Please stop Daddy! Please stop!”

The words were barely a whisper, but Sam heard them. He immediately stopped, pulling Dean to sit on his lab, allowing his hot, saw ass to hand between his knees. 

“That’s my boy,” he crooned, pulling Dean to his chest and rubbing circles on his back. “It’s ok, Daddy loves you. Daddy’s got you.”

To his horror, Dean couldn’t stop crying. Tears and snot rain down his face, he buried it in Sam’s shirt – he just couldn’t look at him. His ass fucking hurt – Sam’s hand was huge! Despite himself, he felt himself relaxing into Sam’s chest, only to tense up when Sam starting speaking again. 

“Now, Dean, ready to have that conversation with Daddy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite enjoyed this chapter. This is the first real spanking scene I have written. I can only get better.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean felt his breath catch again, and pulled away from Sam. Sam didn’t let him, pulling him right back, chest against chest, rubbing his back gently. “Not yet, huh baby? Ok, catch your breath, Daddy’s got you.”

Dean forced himself to relax in Sam’s lap. He was fucking exhausted! Who could have known that having your ass beaten and then crying like a… fuck. Like a fucking _baby_ would wear you out? He tried to still his breathing, feeling it keep catching at the edge of a sob. Sam rubbed small circles on his back with one hand, until Dean’s breathing evened out. The other kept a firm hold on his waist. 

“That’s my good boy. Got anything to say to daddy?”

“I…I’m sorry?” Dean’s voice was small and uncertain. “I… please let me up, Sam.”

Sam sighed, loud and disappointed, the hand at Dean’s waist moved down to cup his glowing red buttocks. 

“Daddy!” Dean quickly corrected himself. “Please let me up, Daddy?”

Sam decided that leaving a hand on Dean’s sore bottom would help the rest of conversation. Not that it was any hardship to have his hands on Dean’s ass. Sam almost drooled with anticipation. It was a place he was intending to spend a lot of time with.

“Let’s go over some things now, baby.”

Dean growled. “Don’t call me baby.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. So this position wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. Not to worry. He quickly flipped Dean over, so the man was sprawled across his lap once more. One hand firmly went to press on Dean’s shoulders, keeping him there. The other drifted back down to Dean’s ass. Sam kneaded those beautiful globes firmly, allowing himself a view of the shadowed opening between them. Ignoring Dean’s hissing, Sam starting speaking. Again. 

“Let’s just go over some things. _Baby_. This was the first lesson: I’m the daddy. _Your_ daddy. You will call me “daddy” and you will listen to me, otherwise you will find yourself over my lap, so I can spank your naughty bottom.”

Dean made a spluttering noise, ready to interrupt. Sam preempted the move with a sharp tap to Dean’s right ass cheek. 

“Don’t interrupt. I would have thought your bottom was sore enough without earning another spanking. But.” And Sam heaved another sigh. “I can see you are a much _littler_ boy than I thought, if you can’t listen to daddy. But don’t worry, baby.” Sam’s voice shifted into a coo. And Dean could be honest. The sound sent a shiver of fear down his spine. “Daddy will look after you.”

His fingers trailed down between Dean’s buttocks, lightly brushing over his hole. “We’ll get back to this baby.” Sam informed him, pressing a little. “Little boys are always open for their daddy. So don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna help you.”

Dean swallowed loudly. “I really don’t think…” His voice trailed off. What was he supposed to say. He was naked and ass up over his brothers knee, his ass _radiating_ heat and pain while his brother fingered his asshole. No wait. Sam’s hand was moving, slipping under Dean til it cupped his tiny cock again. Sam shifted Dean up, so he could feel Sam’s cock bulging beneath him, contained by the denim. “Feel that baby? That’s your daddy’s cock. You’re going to look after him like a good little boy, aren’t you?”

Dean jerked away. From the words, or from the hand on his cock, who could say, but Sam tightened his grip, Dean crying out as Sam maintained pressure, refusing to let go. Dean let himself collapse back down, tears in his eyes. Son of a fucking bitch. He really was screwed. Oh fuck. Dean recalled the feeling of Sam’s fingers ghosting over his hole. Literally. He was literally screwed. His body jerked again, rejecting the thought, and he howled in pain. Sam still had a firm hold on his cock. 

“I know that hurts, Dean, but you need to learn to listen and do what daddy says.”

Sam waiting until Dean had settled a little, the starting tugging on his little cock again. “It’s so little, Dean!” Sam wanted to see, and he didn’t need to deny himself. He flipped over Dean, so his little cock and balls were facing upwards. Dean winced as his ass pressed against Sam’s denim clad thighs. His poor as was tender. One hand went down automatically to cover himself, but Sam grabbed his wrist. “None of that. This all belongs to daddy now. You’re daddy’s toy. His hole Dean, since these,” and Sam began fondling again, loving rolling his balls between his fingers, “and this,” Sam’s fingers batting at his cock, “are useless.”

Dean closed his eyes in mortification. He honestly had thought that it couldn’t get worse, that he had just been put through the most humiliating experience of his life, and that was the slime covered rock bottom. But it looked like he was wrong. Very wrong. And things were about to get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. This was just a really good place to leave it.


	7. Chapter 7

“Stay still for daddy.”

Sam let go of Dean’s cock, his fingers immediately dipping between Dean’s cheeks, brushing his hole. 

“Arghh! What??”

Dean bucked away, but Sam had him in a very firm grip. 

“I have been trying to go slowly, little boy, since I know you are nervous. But all I am getting is attitude and disobedience. And all attitude and disobedience is going to get you is a sore behind." 

“But I’ll make this simple for you. There aren’t many rules, Dean, but I expect you to obey them all. You will listen to daddy and you will do what he says. That means, Dean, I expect you to be obedient and polite. I expect no arguing, and for you to do your job.” Sam’s arms tightened again, as if to halt an attempted escape. 

There was no attempt. Dean was frozen with shock. 

“You’ll do your job, baby. And that job is to be daddy’s little toy.” Sam’s finger, which had been gently rubbing along Dean’s pucker, was pushed with more force, breaching his tight asshole. “You’re job, little boy, is to take daddy’s cock. To be open and ready. To be daddy’s little hole.”

Sam moved his finger in and out a few more times. But it was tight and dry. And he had told Dean the truth – he didn’t want to hurt him. Happily, Sam knew exactly what to do. 

Dean felt the finger withdraw, and heaved a sigh of relief. Sam’s finger hadn’t felt good. It hadn't hurt exactly, but he didn't want it there. Although he had no experience with men, he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t a fucking chick. He wasn't going to _gush_ because Sam wanted to get his dick in him. Sam obviously had no idea what he was doing. He'd tried, he'd failed, and that would be the end of it. 

A worried expression crossed Dean’s face. Now that his ass was safe, he could worry about Sam. Obviously something was wrong with Sam, something had broken, but it was going to get fixed. Dean would make sure it was fixed. After all, Dean always looked after Sam. 

Dean’s thoughts wondered between brotherly affection and worry for a few moments, somewhere Dean was a familiar. A place where Dean was the big brother and all was right with the world. The familiar sound of cap being opened captured his attention. His return to both struggling and begging was instantaneous. 

“Whatever you are thinking Sam, don’t do it.”

Dean went for the simple and straight forward _demand_. Sam’s mind was obviously clouded, and a _discussion_ would get them nowhere. 

Sam’s fingers returned to Dean’s hole, smooth and cold. Not pressing yet, but the threat was there. Dean couldn’t believe it. Didn’t _want_ to believe it. 

Sure, he had been bitten, and licked, and fondled, and spanked. He'd been lectured, and cajoled, bossed around, and manhandled. And then had a finger shoved in his ass, but it was the sound of the lube that seemed the final nail in the coffin.

Dean wasn't above _begging_.

“Sam! Don’t! Please, you don’t have to do this. Please – please don’t do this!” Dean’s voice broke on the last words. 

“Are you telling daddy what to do? Baby, daddy already told you, good boys do what they are told.”

Dean pulled out the big brother card. Hell, he had nothing left to lose. 

“Sam. I am not a fucking _good boy_. I am a grown ass man. I am your big brother! Just… fucking hell!” Despite his best efforts Dean didn’t even have the words to deal with Sam. he had never been good with words, and he had no experience with a situation like this.

Sam had no such problems. He had no need for words.

“Oww!!!”

“Son of a _bitch!!!_ ”

Sam’s hand firmly reintroduced itself to Dean’s glowing red ass.

Sam kept up a steady rhythm. He actually enjoyed spanking Dean. He enjoyed that he was big enough and strong enough to hold Dean there, and Dean just had to take it.He enjoyed the soft wobble of Dean’s ass. The way his cheeks clenched and flexed. Sam couldn’t wait to get his cock in there. He could just imagine how good it would feel, sinking balls deep, flush against those cheeks all hot from Dean’s second spanking in as many minutes. Sam shook his head. His boy was stubborn, no doubt about it. Unfortunately for Dean – and more specifically Dean’s ass – Sam could be more stubborn. Especially when it was something he wanted. 

“I thought we had already had this discussion, Dean.” Fuuuuuck. How did Sam manage to spank and talk at the same time? Dean cursed his little brothers hand/eye coordination. “And believe me when I say I can keep this up much longer than you.”

 

\-----------------------------------

 

I won’t cry. I won’t cry. Dean kept up the mantra. He could barely believe the words were passing through his mind!

He did his best to ignore the pain in his ass – literally and figuratively. Dean could deal with pain - pain was no strange bedfellow to a hunter. But somehow the ass warming he was getting was somehow worse than being stabbed or bitten. Without even realising it he was wriggling around, attempting to evade the hand that lit fire in a scarily steady pattern. Above him Sam sighed dramatically, before hauling him in closer, giving him less room to move, and not even missing a beat with the spanks raining down on his ass. Dean focused on his breathing. He recited exorcisms in head, and calculated this months kill count. Anything to keep his mind off his red and stinging ass. 

But without his permission tears started dripping from his eyes. Because it hurt. It _did_ hurt. And it was _still_ humiliating. 

Although the tears flowed, he held back the sobs as long as he could. He was a man. A _man_ for fucks sake. But here he was, over his brothers lap, like a little boy. It was that thought that broke him. Dean’s breath hitched, the next one a sob. Sam’s hand came down again and again and again. 

 

\-------------------------------------

 

Sam had been watching his brother carefully. His ass was reddening nicely – he would still be feeling it for a few days, and it hadn’t gone beyond what he deemed appropriate for his little boy’s ass… but Dean’s body was still stiff, unyielding, defiant. If he would just – ah! There is was. A loud sob and Dean’s stiff posture broke, body collapsing over Sam’s lap. Again. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Dean as an adult dealt with everything by getting bullheaded, and argumentative. As a little boy, he was sassy, and argumentative. Sam just wasn’t going to put up with it – which meant Dean was going to be spending a lot of time with a red ass. Sam rubbed the ass in question. Happily, he liked a red ass on his boy. 

“Are you ready to be good?”

Without waiting for an answer, Sam’s fingers were re-lubed and pressing against Dean’s hole. Dean was so tight. But Sam persevered, rubbing the little hole with his finger tip, pressing to dip inside, adding more lube until his slippery finger slid into Dean’s tight heat. 

And his gorgeous asshole clenched around his finger. Sam’s cock throbbed. God, it was going to feel good when he was buried in Dean’s glorious ass. 

“Please don’t,” Dean whispered. “I… I’ve never had anything in there before.”

This time Sam couldn’t restrain his groan of arousal. 

“That’s good baby. That makes daddy happy, because that means this hole,” and Sam pressed a second finger in, listening to Dean’s gasp of discomfort, “is all mine.”

Sam started moving his two fingers gently back and forward. “Two fingers! Feel you open up, Dean. Need more though… Daddy’s cock is _much_ bigger than two fingers. So daddy’s going to stretch you, make sure you’re nice and loose for daddy. Going to open you up more, baby. Stretch you for my cock. A little boy’s first time with his daddy is _very_ important. But don’t worry Dean. I’ll train you take my cock. And you’ll love it. You’ll love being daddy’s cockslut.”

Sam continued fucking Dean’s ass with two fingers, watching as his little hole stretched around them, the fingers disappearing only to re emerge, slicked with lube. Ahhhh... so much he wanted to do with this ass. Sam felt his cock throb as he though of doing this later, after he had fucked Dean. But time enough for that. He focused on the job at hand, moved slowly, languorously, watching as Dean’s rim relaxed, finally allowing for a greater stretch. Sam to gently scissor his fingers, so fascinated watching his fingers disappear into Dean’s ass he missed the telling way Dean’s body tensed, ready for battle again. 

“This isn’t going happening, Sam.” Dean was proud. His voice had barely a waver. If he didn’t _look_ at Sam he could pretend that he hadn’t just been crying his heart out. (Again). If he didn’t _look_ at Sam, he could pretend that those weren’t his brothers fingers stretching out his ass. (But would you want it to be anyone else? The annoying little voice was back.)

“Oh?” Sam sounded surprised. “So these aren’t my fingers buried in your ass?” Sam didn’t give him a chance to answer. “But, it’s your choice, baby.”

“Really?” Dean pushed his body up, twisting to look at Sam. Despite being ass up and stuffed with Sam’s fingers, he felt the first flicker of hope. Sam was always the more reasonable of the two. 

Sam in turn, got his first good look at Dean’s tear streaked face. And almost came on the spot. 

“Sure, Dean. It’s your choice whether you let daddy prepare you or not.”

Sam waited, watching the way Dean’s face fell. Sam was stronger than Dean, bigger. Had been for a while, although he had never used it to his advantage, not like this. 

“This is happening Dean. You don’t get a choice in that. But you get to choose whether you enjoy it or not.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited to add: just wanted to say thankyou to people for being enthusiastic for more! I will always finish what I write (even if some are pretty much on hiatus at the moment) but it is very nice to know that people are reading and... well... kind of enjoying. Afterall, poor Dean! (and yes, this isn't a happy story for Dean. When I finally finish this one I am writing some sap)


	8. Chapter 8

Dean looked at Sam, horrified expression telegraphing every single emotion. It actually gave Sam a warm feeling – this was good for his brother, who had always had trouble getting touch with his feelings. Sam was helping him. Sam rubbed gentle circles on Dean’s back, cooing gently at his brother. 

“I don’t want to hurt you Dean. That’s why I am taking this time, prepping your little hole so when I push my big cock in,” and Sam didn’t even try to stop his hips from canting up, pushing his big, hard cock against Dean’s little soft one, “it feels good for you.”

Sam’s hard moved from Dean’s back, laying a light spank against Dean’s red and sore ass. “But your attitude, little boy, isn’t helping. You are rushing daddy through, trying to get him to stop stretching your little hole.” And here Sam allowed his finger to slide down Dean’s crack, catching on Dean’s rim. He just rubbed gently, feeling it twitch and flutter. 

“What’s it to be, little boy? You want daddy to take his time,” and here Sam’s finger did slip in. Nice and easily. He really had done some good work preparing Dean. If he fucked him now, it would hurt him, but he wouldn’t be badly injured. And it was a lesson Dean needed to learn. “Or do you want daddy to fuck you right now.”

Dean was torn. And confused. And he didn’t know what to do. Which made things even more confusing, as he always knew what to do – or at least what action to take. Consequences he could deal with. But this options thing… Neither appealed. The end point was the same. He was going to get fucked. 

“Fuck… I’m fucked…” Dean moaned out loud. 

Sam stifled a laugh. But he wasn’t encouraging that naughty mouth. 

Sam’s hand came down again with a crack. 

“Son of a b—“

A fluffy of smacks rained down on Dean’s bottom. 

“Stop! Please…. Daddy!!!”

Sam’s hand stilled. That was an improvement. The first time Dean had called him daddy without prompting. Sam eyed the upturned bottom. It was a delightfully painful shade of red. Even if Sam didn’t fuck him into the mattress, Dean would not be sitting comfortable for a few days. Sam made a decision. 

“Thank you for remembering daddy’s name, Dean. Good boys get good things. Now I know you are having trouble making decisions, so I’ll do it for you. I’m going to open you up, make you nice and wet so it feels good when daddy slides his cock in. Now,” Sam patted the rosy buttocks. “Up on the bed, Dean. Hands and knees.”

“Sammy… I can’t.” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper. 

“I don’t think I heard you, Dean.” Sam’s voice was like a whiplash. “It sounds like you forgot Daddy’s name AND you told him no.”

Dean knew his ass couldn’t take much more. So did the only thing he could. He twisted around again, and looked up at Sam, with tear glazed eyes. “I… I’m sorry daddy. I’m scared. You have such a big cock…” Dean’s voice trailed off. Sure, he was trying to play Sam, but it was also true. 

“Oh baby.” 

Dean felt his bottom lip tremble, and tears flood his eyes. He wasn’t even acting. 

“It’s too much!” 

He couldn’t even believe that was his soft little voice. 

Sam made a decision. He would still be fucking that sweet little ass, but Dean obviously needed him to be a little gentler. Sam snorted to himself, of course. Dean really was sensitive. He tried to hide it, but Sam always knew. Which was why this was so perfect.

Sam let his fingers ghost along Dean’s ass. It really was hot. Although he had meant to explore his little boy, Dean had sassed him from the start. Hopefully the attitude had been spanked out of him. 

Sam pulled Dean up, hauling his body so they were chest to chest, before laying them both on the bed. Dean’s eyes darted around, and his body tensed. Sam simply laid his leg over Dean’s hip, leg heavy, cutting of his escape. The position was rather nice too, laying his hard and weeping cock along Dean’s soft cock. 

Sam put a little distance between their bodies, keeping a firm leg over Dean. “Oh baby,” he breathed. “Look at how little you are.” Sam’s hand reached down, pulling on Dean’s cock gently. Dean wiggled uncomfortably. 

“I don’t like that.”

Sam’s hand never stopped moving. “What don’t you like, Dean?”

“I don’t like you touching me like that.”

“Daddy can touch you however he wants. Little boys with little boy cocks are used as holes. And I’m looking forward to putting my daddy sized cock,” and here Sam canted his hips, allowing his cock to slide underneath Dean’s, “in your little hole.” Sam’s hand drifted down to Dean’s balls, tugging them. “Are you looking forward to that Dean? Looking forward to being filled with daddy’s cock and come?”

Dean shook his head frantically. And Sam laughed. 

“It’s not like you can use this,” Sam’s hand was back on his cock. 

Dean zoned out. Sam was playing with his cock. Praising him - _praising him_ for how little and sweet it was. How only a good little boy would have such a cute little boy cock. Dean didn’t want to hear it, but was forced to listen as Sam’s fingers gripped his cock too tightly.

“And I asked you Dean, to tell me what this is, and what you.”

Dean blinked tears away. “What? It’s my cock! You know what it is!”

Sam’s fingers tightened and he frowned. 

“I would almost think you weren’t paying attention to what I was saying, Dean. And we’ve had this conversation before. Now,” and Sam’s fingers tightened cruelly. “What. Is. This. And. What. Are. You.”

Dean’s breath hitched, but he didn’t give Sam the satisfaction of crying out, although he didn’t know how much more he could take. But he cast back to what they had been talking about. All Sam had been saying for hours was what a little boy Dean was, and how Sam was his _daddy_ and he had a little boy cock and… oh. Sam wanted to make the humiliation complete. Not only did he have to put up with Sam spanking him, and mocking his… his… 

“Little boy cock.” Dean mumbled it quietly, but Sam was close enough that Dean knew would hear. Dean was rewarded with Sam’s fingers loosening their grip. They didn’t let go though. Just stroked him. 

“And what are you?”

Dean was at a loss again. What the fuck was he? At the moment it just seemed like he was a fuck toy for a brother who was off his fucking head. Oh. Right. Dean closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at Sam. 

“Fuck toy.”

Sam eyebrows snapped down.

“Not my toy Dean. My precious baby. My precious hole.”

Dean shuddered. How the fuck was that any better? His eyes snapped open, ready to argue again, but Sam was looking him straight in the eye. 

“Little boys, with useless little boy cocks are just made to take cock.” Sam’s hand had drifted again, fingers pressing at Dean’s asshole. “Because this still works.” Once more, Sam’s fingers entered Dean. Dean choked off a curse. Sam stilled. 

“Now, tell daddy what you are.”

Silently, Dean begged as loudly as he could. Please Sammy! Please! Stop this! We can stop this. He couldn’t say the words out loud. He knew that would get him turned over Sam’s knee again. But if he agreed, it was like he was agreeing to Sam fucking him. Was there any way out of this? 

Sam lay there watching Dean. Sure, he could force the issue, but it was going to be so much smoother and more enjoyable for them both, if Dean accepted his role. 

“…hole.”

Sam could barely hear the words. And that just wasn’t going to be good enough. 

“Tell me again, Dean. What are you?”

“A hole.” There was a slight pause. “A hole for daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah man, Sam is such a bastard.


	9. Chapter 9

It really wasn’t much of a choice. If Dean hadn’t yet managed to convince Sam that this was a terrible idea, then nothing was going to. Sam wasn’t even threatening here. Dean glanced up, hiding his expression with his lashes. Sam just sat there with a patient expression on his face, like he was being reasonable! Apparently the four big fingers still but very present in his ass weren’t an issue.

Dean opened his mouth but Sam hushed him. 

“Don’t want you to get in trouble again, baby. The only thing I want to hear now is ‘yes’ meaning ‘yes daddy, please prepare me properly’, or ‘no’ meaning ‘no daddy, I’m ready right now. You’re choice, little boy.”

Dean couldn’t help the tears that filled his eyes. There was so much that was wrong here. So much that was unfair. And the kicker? He had _no fucking idea_ how to get out of it. 

Sam pulled his fingers out of Dean’s ass with a lewd squelching sound. He heaved Dean up (and wasn’t Dean getting really fucking sick of being manhandled), turning him on his lap, so his legs splayed on either side of Sam. He hated it. He felt so _exposed_. His ass felt like it was gaping, and it put his cock in Sam’s sight line. And whenever Sam saw it, it was like… yep. There it was. Pavlov’s Dog. Sam’s hand came down to fondle Dean’s cock. Rubbing, and rolling, batting and pulling. Sam wasn’t even actively _engaged_. It was like… It was like rolling a pencil in your hand when you were bored, for something to do with your hand. Dean felt his cheeks colour.

Great. Pencil dick. Dean now legitimately had a pencil dick. 

Sam watched his little boys face. Dean’s thoughts and emotions were all over the place. Although Sam wanted nothing more than to push Dean face first on the bed and fuck him til he passed out, it wasn’t quite the time. His little boy was a bit too skittish. 

Sam’s held back a grin. And he needed to ask for it. There was no way his little boy was going to be cockslut who didn’t beg for cock. 

\--

The silence continued until Dean spoke. And Sam won. Not that there was ever any doubt. There wasn’t any another choice. The sad expression Dean gave him as he whispered ‘yes’ sent a jolt of arousal through his body. And it was almost enough. 

He pulled Dean in for a kiss, wrapping long arms around his brother. 

“That’s a good choice, baby. You know daddy’s going to make you feel good. Now… what do you want daddy to do?”

Distantly, Dean wondered what he had done to deserve this. It seemed remarkably unfair that a simple salt and burn turned into the most humiliating experience of his life. But there was no point avoiding the inevitable; the sooner Sam had his way, the sooner he would be on his way, the sooner Dean could forget this whole fucking nightmare. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Sam’s hands were running along his hips, his fingers stopped, digging into bruises and bites. “Talk to daddy nicely, Dean.”

Huffing a sigh, Dean repeated, “I want you to fuck me - _daddy_.”

Sam rewarded him with a kiss. A little bit of attitude was ok. Just a little. “That’s my good boy. Now, baby. You know what we have been talking about. I need you to be specific.”

Sam, Dean decided, was a complete and utter asshole. The single mindedness he was applying to Dean right was off putting. It was fine when it was directed at a hunt, and though he never thought he would say this… he actually has a little sympathy for the monsters they hunt. 

“Daddy. Please fuck my ass.”

It was pretty lackluster. Sam decided to let it pass. There would be plenty of time for more practise. 

“And why should I do that?”

Sam could see the moment Dean just gave in. 

“Because I’m daddy’s hole.”

Sam rewarded him with another kiss. “Since you asked so nicely, baby. Ok, on your hands and knees, in the middle of the bed.”

A firm hand under Dean’s ass, and one on his shoulder moved him from Sam’s lap to the bed. Sam stepped back, leaving Dean alone. He looked little, and scared. Sam’s heart melted and his cock throbbed. 

Sam stripped off his clothes as Dean slowly got into position. He kept his back flat and his knees close together. Sam smiled indulgently. How cute. 

“Ok Dean, look at daddy.”

Dean turned his head. Sam slowly fisted his cock. Not that he needed too. He was already hard and dripping. 

“This,” and Sam paused his fist at the head of his cock, squeezing just under the head. “This is a daddy sized cock. Much bigger your little baby cock. But don’t worry, daddy loves your little cock.”

Sam watched as Dean flushed again. Poor baby, still embarrassed. Sam would be sure to spend a lot of time reassuring him that his baby cock made him happy. Sam had to grip the base of his cock, thinking of having those little treats in his mouth again.

“And daddy’s cock is going to go in your little hole. That’s why I had to stretch it. Don’t want my little boy hurting.” 

Sam watched Dean’s thighs and ass clench and flex. He took deep breaths, calming himself down. He didn’t want this to be over too soon. The only place he was coming tonight was in Dean.

“See how happy daddy is when you’re his good boy? Now daddy wants you to spread your legs. Wider. As wide as you can. I want to see your cute little hole, Dean.”

Dean obeyed as slowly as he could. Presenting himself like this was… awkward to say the least. He couldn’t shut out Sam’s soft encouragement, the steady stream of ‘good boy’ and ‘so pretty’ and ‘daddy can’t wait to be buried in his hole’ carving out space in his brain. 

He wasn’t paying enough attention though, as Sam’s hand on his shoulder surprised a cry out of him.

“I need you to put your chest to the bed, baby. That’ll spread you nice and wide and daddy can see everything.”

Sam watched, pleased, as Dean slowly lowered himself, crossing his arms and resting his head there. Not a single defiant look or sassy remark. Spanking obviously worked wonders on naughty little boys. He licked his lips as the position spread Dean’s cheeks, just a little. His pretty little asshole peeped out, and Sam could see it gaping, his fingers having done their job. 

“Ah! Dean! Even with your legs spread I can barely see your little cock!” Sam dropped to his knees hands gripping Dean’s thighs. He stuck his between Dean’s legs, fascinated by the tiny movements, as Dean shifted away. 

“My little boy is so adorable!” Sam couldn’t help but coo. 

Dean’s self-conscious movements caused Sam to glance up. And right in front of his eyes was that glorious asshole. Sam salivated, knowing that soon he would be in there. Soon he would be fucking Dean so hard he wouldn’t be able to remember anything else. 

Sam couldn’t resist. 

“Stay still, baby.”

He knew his next move would unsettle Dean, but the sooner he realised that Sam owned every part of him, the happier they were both going to be. Sam licked a stripe from the base of those beautiful little balls up past Dean’s hole, allowing his tongue to dip in. He could feel Dean’s muscles clench, his trying to keep him out, trying to move away, but Sam just wrapped his hands around Dean’s thighs, as he issued an order to stay still. 

He didn’t bother teasing, just pushed his tongue straight in, his tongue meeting with almost no resistance. Sam had done a good job fingering his little boy open. Soon he was nose deep in Dean’s hole. _His_ hole. 

Sam got down to the business of getting Dean wet and sloppy, waiting until his saliva dripped from his boys hole before finally he lifted his head. Dean was gasping little gasps, trying to muffle them I the sheets. His thighs quivering as he struggled to stay still. Sam ran gentle fingers over Dean’s hips – such a good boy for daddy. 

Sam nuzzled in again, nipping at the edges of Dean’s loosened hole, before lathing the tender spots with his tongue. Finally, Dean’s ready. Loose and sloppy for his Daddy. Sam released his hold on Dean’s hip, hand slipping down to fondle Dean’s cock. He nuzzled in again, only to whisper into Dean’s hole, “such a good little boy, I can tell it feels good Dean. Listen to you moan… daddy’s little cock slut.” 

Sam knelt behind Dean, fisting his cock a few times. He was already so hard it hurt. Dean’s stretched hole was peeking through his red cheeks. Such a pretty picture. But enough with the foreplay. Sam was ready to sink into his sweet boy, and he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to watch Dean’s ass as it took his cock for the first time. 

“Baby, reach back and hold yourself open for daddy.”

\--

The words didn’t really make sense. Dean was floating. A combination of humiliation and pleasure. When Sam stuck his face in his ass - _fuck!_ – the way his _tongue_ … and it was the strangest feeling. His dick didn’t give a single twitch but a feeling _so good_ shot through his body. Dean had pushed his face into the mattress, not able to bear hearing himself pant and moan. 

Because nothing about this should feel good. He didn’t want this. Not any of it. Through this haze Sam’s word broke through. He thought he had reached the point of no reaction, that he couldn’t feel any more humiliated, but Sam had outdone himself. 

“What?”

Sam maneuvered himself over Dean, running hands along his sides until his lips were at Dean’s ears.

“Daddy wants you to reach back, grabbing an ass cheek in each hand and spread them as wide as you can. I want a nice clear nice clear view when I sink my cock into my baby’s - _my_ \- hole for the first time.”

“Sammy… I can’t.” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper. 

“I don’t think I heard you, Dean.” Sam’s voice was like a whiplash. “It sounds like you forgot Daddy’s name AND you told him no. Do you need another reminder on how to behave?” Sam reinforced his words with a very firm tap to Dean’s hip. 

There was no point in denying Sam. It was going to happen – whether now or after… after whatever punishment Sam planned. Better to do it now. Better to get it over and done with. 

Dean was unable to stop his body shaking as he slowly moved his arms behind him, feeling his chest sink further into the bed, the position canting his hips up, spreading his cheeks slightly. Unfortunately, he wasn’t beyond humiliation yet. Upon hearing Sam’s pleased sounds he pushed his face into the bed. 

“Keep going baby. Show daddy his special place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was going to be one more chapter, but I decided to split it up. Here was a pretty good point. But I can say for sure, one more after this one.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam leant back and admired. The sight was everything Sam had imagined. And he _had_ imagined, imagined Dean laid out before him, like a delicious meal. He’d always pushed those thoughts and feelings to the back of his mind, because Dean hadn’t been open to it. But now he was. Well, he was open. All opened up for Sam… 

He lightly ran his knuckles over Dean’s shaking fingers. 

“Such a good boy. Such a beautiful boy.”

Sam teased himself, as he slowly his cock along Dean’s ass crack, letting it catch on Dean’s rim. Dean’s deliciously gaping rim. 

“You’re so open, baby. Daddy’s big, bit this isn’t going to hurt at all…”

He didn’t bother with anything else, just lined himself up and pushed. The feel as his cock breached that tight ring for the first time was almost too much. If he’d had less self-control, he’d have come then and there, fucking his baby be damned. 

But he’d waited this long – there was no way he was coming before he was completely surrounded by Dean’s velvety ass. 

Muttering sweet nothings, Sam placed his hands on Dean’s hips, maintaining his balance as he sank slowly but surely into Dean. He couldn’t take his eyes off Dean’s hole, watching it swallow him inch by inch. 

Biting back a strangled groan, he felt his face flush as Dean’s asshole fluttered around the intrusion, the way his walls tightened and released as he Sam’s cock filled him. 

“Wish you could see this, baby. Your tiny hole is stretching round daddy’s big cock. You’re so _tight_ , Dean. And,” Sam paused to moan. “You feel _so fucking good_. My perfect baby. My perfect hole.”

Dean tried to shut out the words. But it just allowed him to focus even _more_ on the feeling of Sam cock slowly stretching and filling him. And Sam was right. Although he could feel the stretch, it _didn’t_ hurt. Thank god Sam’s got fucking huge fingers, Dean thought bitterly. And if it didn’t hurt, well at least it didn’t feel goo– ah! 

Sam could full the tremor that went through Dean’s body as he bottomed out. 

“I knew you’d love having daddy fill you up.” 

Dean felt so good around him. Sam stilled, feeling incredibly torn. On the one hand, he wanted to fuck Dean into the mattress, wreck that perfect ass, and watch his come dribbling out of his well fucked hole. He rolled his hips just thinking about it. On the other hand, seeing the way his cock split Dean? The way his boy kept his hands on his ass cheeks? That was fucking hot too. He felt like he could stare for hours.

“What to do, what to do,” he wondered out loud, all the while running his hands over Dean’s hips, thrusting a little just to see Dean wobble as he tried to keep his hands on his ass, keep himself spread wide. 

And Dean, like the good little hole he was, laid as still as he could, waiting for Sam to make up his fucking mind and get on with it. Fucking Sam. He could take his time and think about things. It wasn’t like _he_ had a baseball bat shoved up his ass. Dean choked a little and felt tears start again. It wasn’t like he owned a baseball bat. 

Dean’s muffled sob seemed to decide Sam. He could take it slow next time. He pulled out, until just the tip split that glorious ass, then slammed back in, luxuriating in the smooth slide, in the feel of Dean surrounding him.

“Good boy,” Sam panted. “Take daddy’s cock. You’re daddy’s hole now, mine to fuck whenever, however I want.” He gripped Dean’s hips tighter, knowing the bruises would blossom on them tomorrow. How he wanted to reach round and play with his little boys soft cock. 

Sam moaned. 

“You can’t even get hard, baby. Only big boys and daddies get hard, and daddies fuck their little boys,” with a grunt Sam slammed into Dean, “hard.”

The room was filled with the slap of Sam’s balls against Dean’s ass, and the slip of sweaty bodies moving against each other. Although he wanted it to last, Sam could feel his balls tightening as Dean’s silky walls caressed him. His hips started to stutter as bit out “mine!” as his fingers dug cruelly into Dean. 

With a final grunt, Sam slammed himself into Dean as deep as he could, before his cock pulsed, sending ropes of comes into Dean’s welcoming ass. Dean could feel the movement, could feel the splash as Sam painted his insides. He held his position and felt the tears start again. He cried silently, waiting for Sam to get out of him, to leave him. He just wanted to have a shower, leave the room, to forget this had ever happened. 

Sam had other ideas. He gently disengaged himself, and as his cock slipped free, he pulled Dean close before turning them on their sides. Nudging his hips as close and tight to Dean’s ass as he could, he nestled his soft cock between Dean’s ass cheeks. 

“Daddy’s soft too now. Just the same as his little boy.”

He felt Dean shudder, and kissed his shoulder, before saying softly, “You were such a good boy for daddy. See what happens when you are good? Daddy takes care of you.”

Sam wrapped his big arms around Dean, pulling Dean’s hips back until his balls rested against the curve of Dean’s ass. Dean felt the soft puff of Sam’s breath on his nape, before his chin was grasped in a firm grip, face turned towards Sam. 

Sam’s eyes had already been soft, but at the sight of fresh tears they softened more. With the rough pad of his thumb he wiped the tears away, before stroking downs Dean’s face to press insistently at his mouth. 

Dean was tired. Too tired for any of this. His lips parted easily under the pressure, and Sam just stroked his thumb inside Dean’s mouth, laying claim to it all. They lay in silence, until Dean’s eyes started to drift shut. Removing his thumb, Sam laid kisses against Dean’s forehead, before softly kissing all the freckles he could see. A final chaste kiss to Dean’s lips, freeing his hand to cup Dean’s soft little cock. 

As Dean started to drift, Sam whispered in his ear. 

“Don’t worry baby, even if you grow up,” and Sam emphasised this with a firm squeeze to Dean’s little cock, “You’ll always be my baby. Daddy will always look after you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gosh! I finally finished it. that took many months...
> 
> thankyou for reading. 
> 
> now to keep working on the rest of the pieces :-)


End file.
